


To Make You Stay

by ashamedbliss



Series: Once and Future Queen [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Always-a-girl!Merlin, Angry Kissing, Angst, Arguing, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Girl!Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pillow Talk, Possessive Arthur, Power Play, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds out that his maidservant has magic. Neither of them expect it to end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Make You Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Another installation, with actually a bit more plot this time, let me know if there's any kinks or anything you'd like to see. Sorry for the lame summary! Title from _No Light, No Light_ by Florence + The Machine
> 
>  **Warnings:** dubious consent applies to one specific point (but both are happily consenting soon after), and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to somnophilia. I think that's it.

Merlin wilts as she enters Arthur’s chambers with her arms full of linen, hurrying to place it down on the bed. She looks around the room wearily at the armour to be buffed, boots to be polished, fire to be made, laundry to be folded, bath to be drawn, and bed sheets to be replaced.

Arthur had purposefully avoided her eye that morning, and she only realised why when she was stripping the sticky sheets an hour later. She’d thought about it all day, and still didn’t know what it meant, aside from the obvious.

The King had kept her busy by allocating her to the visiting family, specifically Princess Mithian, even though she had brought plenty of her own maidservants, and Merlin was still expected to attend to her normal duties in the little time she had left. Arthur would be back from a banquet shortly and Merlin had a whole evening’s work ahead of her.

Merlin sighs, and with a flick of her hand sets the rag scrubbing at Arthur’s boots and the brush scraping against his armour. With a flash of her eyes, the fire is roaring in the hearth and the water is already in the bath at the perfect temperature. Whilst the laundry folds itself, she daren’t entrust her magic with making Arthur’s bed up, as he’s incredibly particular about his pillows and last time, one of them ended up in the fireplace.

That had been an interesting conversation; Merlin still remembers how Arthur had fumed, the remnants of a soot-covered pillow in his hand as Merlin cowered, having only been in the job a week.

Oh, how things have changed. Merlin smiles, beginning to arrange the pillows on Arthur’s bed, humming a tune as she does so.

She does not hear the door open.

“ _Witch_.”

Merlin startles, falling off the bed and onto the floor, the brush clattering along with her and the laundry freezing in mid-air. She looks up from where she is tangled in her skirts, elbows and knees smarting, to see Arthur standing in the door with hands in fists at his sides and his expression dark.

“Sire,” she says, panic quickly bubbling in her chest, overflowing from her lips. She had planned how she would tell him, gently suggesting at it, once the law had been lifted years from now. She didn’t want it to be like this, never like this. “Sire, please, it’s not what you think it is--”

“Not what I think it is?” Arthur asks, barking a harsh laugh before snapping again. “This is _sorcery_ , Merlin. Sorcery is punishable by death.”

“Sire!” Merlin cries, crawling across the floor to grip at Arthur’s thighs, remembering the times she’s done that before, so distant from now. “Please sire!” she pleads, voice on the verge of falsetto and tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “I only ever use it for good, and I didn’t want to let you down, and I had so many duties and Mithian kept sending me on errands and I couldn’t--”

Merlin’s chest heaves and she begins to cry, releasing her grip on Arthur’s breeches and slumping to the floor, sat on her heels. Crying is something Merlin has always tried to avoid; her childhood friend Will always teased her for being a girl if she cried, so now she hides her emotions, always smiling no matter how much she is hurting on the inside. Her hair hides her face from Arthur as she stares at the red of her dress, one the King had specifically given her a few days ago, proudly telling her that he wanted his maidservant wearing the Pendragon red.

He probably wishes he never had, now.

“I can’t help who I am,” she sobs, raising her gaze only slightly to the tips of Arthur’s best boots, still shining from that morning, one thing she had managed to do right, but still by magic. “I was going to tell you--”

“Do you do _all_ of your chores with magic?” Arthur asks in a tone Merlin honestly cannot decode.

She nods her head once, not daring raise her eyes for fear of what she will find. She sniffs lightly as fears creeps through her veins like ice, counting down the seconds until Arthur calls for his guards. She wishes he wouldn’t prolong it like this.

“I’ve nearly been killed by magic three times, Merlin. How do I know you won’t also have a try? How do I know you wouldn’t use magic to seduce me and then kill me? Have you tried already, but failed?” Arthur’s tone is provocative in the way that Merlin imagines him taunting his competitors on the training field before lunging for them. She cannot stand it.

Merlin snaps her gaze up. “You’ve nearly been killed by magic three times,” she hisses, anger making her nearly spit her words at the King, tears still on her cheeks but uncaring now. “Nearly. _Nearly_ killed. Because I saved you each and every time.”

Shock passes over Arthur’s face briefly before he masks it, but Merlin sees. “You’re lying.”

Merlin raises her voice. “I’m powerful enough that if I wanted to kill you, I would make sure I finish the job.” She stands up suddenly, and strongly dislikes that Arthur steps back a miniscule amount. “The first time was poison, the second time was a spell, the third a curse. And I stopped them each time. If you lifted the bloody ban on magic in the first place, you wouldn’t have so many sorcerers trying to kill you,” she says, bringing herself to her full height which is still much shorter than Arthur, jabbing a finger into the centre of his chest. “So go on. Kill me if you want, but you’ll have no one to save your _stupid_ royal arse when they retaliate.” Merlin hits him lightly in the chest at this, and Arthur’s shocked expression turns to a slight smirk. She hits him again, this time hard enough to hurt. “And just _what_ is so amusing?”

“I’ve never seen you so angry before,” he says, and Merlin feels her cheeks begin to heat in humiliation but she doesn’t back down; if anything, Arthur’s annoying tone continues to grate at her nerves. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry.”

“Of course,” Merlin says, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m so sorry,” she mocks, “it’s _completely_ irrational that I should be angry that you’re going to burn me alive. In fact, I should welcome it with open arms!” She’s shouting now, but she doesn’t care. “I should be _happy_ that the great King Arthur is going to torch me! Oh praise the Gods!” she yells as she throws her hands in the air, before she slaps Arthur across the cheek with an audible smack.

With a delayed reaction, Arthur’s face crumples in pain as he touches his hand to his rapidly reddening cheek. “I could have you hanged for treason.”

Merlin fumes, her hand stinging. “Just _arrest_ me already! Get it over and done with tonight! I’m sure your future wife would love to see your maidservant burnt at the stake.”

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together for a moment, before the uninjured side of his face curls up with a smile. “You truly are an idiot, Merlin. Why would I arrest you?”

Faltering, Merlin’s mouth opens and closes like that of a fish for a few seconds. “Because... are you blind?!” she shrieks. “I have magic? It’s _illegal_? You just saw me use it?”

“For the good of the kingdom, no less,” Arthur counters in a light tone that makes Merlin go still.

Merlin’s eyes shine with tears again, the torrent of emotions running through her veins taking its toll. “Don’t play with me,” she warns in a low, shaking voice. “Please, please, I know what Uther did to some of the others, how he tricked them into thinking they were free before torturing them, you can’t, please--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says softly, reaching out for a now trembling Merlin and pulling her into his chest. She tenses momentarily before relaxing into the warmth of his body, unseen tears spilling down her cheeks. “Merlin,” he whispers into her hair, and Merlin closes her eyes. She concentrates on his voice and the way she can feel it rumbling through his chest, and the way he smells, warm and earthy. “Even if I tried to arrest you... if you’re as powerful as you say you are, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Merlin looks up. “I never--” she says with a gasp, eyes wide. “I would never hurt you.”

Arthur nods, running his hand through Merlin’s wild hair, holding her head against his chest once more. “I know,” he says, before taking a deep breath. “I’ve been in talks for quite some time about lifting the ban on magic.”

Merlin inhales shakily, trying to make sense of it, weighing the enormity of those words. She could be free, truly free. “But... you never said?”

“I had to do it secretly. If my enemies had found out...” Arthur lets the sentence trail to an end. “Why do you think I invited Gaius onto my council? He’s very knowledgeable about your people, Merlin.”

“So...” Merlin starts in a small voice. “So you’re not going to kill me?”

Arthur pushes her away by the shoulders, and for one gut-wrenching moment she thinks that he must’ve changed his mind, before two of his fingers tip her chin up towards him. He looks at her with his head cocked slightly, as if she’s a mystery he can’t quite solve. “I don’t think I could, Merlin,” he says, and Merlin can nearly see herself reflected in his eyes, he’s so close. “It appears I’m quite fond of you after all.”

Merlin makes a soft “oh” sound just before Arthur touches his lips to hers. She closes her eyes and clenches her hands into fists, pressing them against Arthur’s chest, unable to believe it, this, _them_. “You’re a prat,” she breathes in the space between their mouths when Arthur pulls away slightly, and the insufferable man _smiles_ , of all things. “An utter clotpole,” she murmurs against his lips as she chases his mouth, her fists opening to clutch at his tunic, trying desperately not to cry with relief. “ _Gods_ , I hate you,” she says as Arthur’s hands come to rest on her waist. “You’re a terrible King and a terrible lover.”

Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s mouth, and she wonders if she’s overstepped the invisible mark that always shifts beneath their feet. “Now, you see, terrible King I can live with,” Arthur says, staying close as he unlaces Merlin’s dress. “But terrible lover, I’ll have to rectify.”

“Can’t rectify the truth,” Merlin manages to breathe as Arthur pushes the dress from her shoulders, unsure of whether her last words actually made sense because Arthur is cupping her breasts with his warm hands and she finds she doesn’t care any longer.

“You know,” Arthur says. “I think red really is your colour. It brings out the blush in your cheeks.” He grazes his knuckles against one of Merlin’s high cheekbones, and she leans into the touch. “But really, it has to go.”

He pushes the dress off her hips sharply, where she would normally have to wiggle to get the fabric off her body. She stands naked save for her boots, hair curling around her shoulders, and crosses her arms under her breasts. “A good lover wouldn’t leave his lady as the only one bared.”

“Lady? A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” Arthur laughs, stepping away from Merlin and taking the heat of his body with him. He pulls his tunic over his head quickly, leaving Merlin’s eyes to roam over his chest, something she’s seen hundreds of times now but still can’t get quite enough of.

“Would you rather me be a man? You did have quite the reaction last time, when you came as I touched your-- _ooft_.”

Merlin lands heavily on the half-made bed, winded as Arthur stands over her, toeing out of his boots and hurriedly pushing down his breeches. “Shut up, Merlin,” he says as he unlaces her boots, pulling her feet out of them roughly and throwing them over his shoulder.

Arthur tries to crawl onto the bed, but Merlin presses her toes to Arthur’s chest, pushing against him with her foot. He halts in his movements, and a smile works its way onto her face, despite everything. His eyes lower, obviously looking at where her legs are spread wide open. “So you’re not denying it?”

Arthur rolls his eyes, gripping Merlin’s ankle and moving it out of the way, crawling forward to touch the folds at the apex of her thighs, and she melts into the bed. “You’re incredibly slow. I quite enjoy your cunt, please keep up,” he murmurs as he presses his thumb against her clit, working one finger inside of her.

“ _Gods_ ,” Merlin sighs, gripping at the sheets with spread arms, her curls fanned across the bed. Her legs twitch as Arthur crooks his fingers inside her, her feet roaming on the bed, unable to stay still. “Arthur,” she moans, long and loud, and then Arthur pulls his fingers out of her. “Are you mad?!” she asks in a high voice, drunk on the smell of sex between them.

“You’re not a _man_ , Merlin, you hardly need working open,” Arthur says, rubbing the head of his cock from Merlin’s clit downwards. She shuffles up the bed, out of reach and laughing.

“So you know? You know how it works?” Merlin says excitedly, eyes dancing with mirth as she shakes her head. “My, Arthur, we have quite some secrets between us.”

Arthur growls, grabbing Merlin’s thighs and forcing them apart, and Merlin cries out in pain. “Harpy. You don’t know the slightest thing about me,” he snaps, forcing his hips between hers once more, one hand going to hold her throat. “You forget that I’m still your _King_.”

Merlin would’ve said ‘red’, but she knew now that Arthur wasn’t playing any more, that this had evolved from the game it had started as. Instead, her magic responds to the threat before she can blink, flipping Arthur onto his back and locking his arms high above his head. Merlin moves without thinking, straddling his stomach, able to feel the head of his cock against her arse.

“You _witch_ ,” Arthur seethes, fighting against the invisible bonds that hold wrists in place. “You lying whore! You said you would never hurt me.”

Merlin smiles coolly, aware that her eyes must still be bright gold, if Arthur’s focussed gaze is anything to go by. “Am I hurting you now?” she asks in a silky sweet voice, reaching behind her to take hold of Arthur’s cock. His erection hasn’t flagged at all, which makes Merlin smile in a much more genuine fashion. “Am I causing you pain?”

Arthur’s features soften and his eyes flutter shut as Merlin begins to pump him in a loose fist. “No,” he says quietly on the end of a sigh.

“You’re my King,” Merlin says, “and you will always be my King. I never forget. But _you_ can’t forget who _I_ am, or what I’m capable of.”

Arthur’s eyes shoot open and he gasps, looking down his chest, lifting his head as much as he can. “What are you doing to me?”

“I will never hurt you,” Merlin says, sending another curling tendril of warm magic across Arthur’s torso. “Magic isn’t something to be afraid of, at least when it’s used for good. I could make you feel brilliant, Arthur. I could do so much, if only you would let me.”

Merlin leans down and brushes her lips against Arthur’s, and she hates the way her heart soars when he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she whispers against his mouth, pressing forward into a proper kiss. Arthur lifts his head, tongue seeking entry to her mouth eagerly, and as the kiss becomes rougher they pant into each other’s mouths. Arthur pulls his head back, looking up at Merlin’s eyes, now only faintly golden near the pupils.

“Fuck me, Merlin, please,” he gasps, like a drowning man breaking for air. Merlin beams, before rising up onto her knees, reaching for Arthur’s cock behind her. She lines him up, sinking down with a low mewl and slowly rocking down until she sits astride Arthur’s hips.

“I’ve never done it like this before,” Merlin muses, looking up at Arthur’s fingers twitching in their restraints. “Will you be a good boy if I let you go?”

“Yes,” Arthur hisses, trying but failing to roll his hips up into Merlin. She shifts a miniscule amount, enough for Arthur to groan loudly.

“What’s the magic word?” Merlin says, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked smile. Arthur opens his eyes, if only to roll them.

“ _Please_.”

Merlin blinks and Arthur’s hands are free. Instantly, he moves one to Merlin’s hip, thumb digging into the soft flesh there, and the other to her breast, cupping it perfectly in his hand. “ _Gods_ , Merlin,” he says as she begins to rock forwards and back, setting a harsh rhythm between them. Merlin braces one hand against Arthur’s chest, her slender fingers pressed against the coarse hair there, the other hand against his shoulder as she moves. “You are absolutely impossible.”

“And you’re still-- _oh!_ Still a prat,” she says, biting her lip and throwing her head back as Arthur goes deeper than he has before. “You said that the first time and nothing’s... nothing’s changed.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the bedchamber, utterly obscene. Merlin moans with every thrust, which only spurs Arthur on. “We could do this every night,” Arthur says lowly, sitting up with Merlin still in his lap, the rhythm faltering slightly as he looks up into Merlin’s eyes. “I could fuck you slowly, so slowly you fall asleep on my cock and come in your dreams,” he murmurs into Merlin’s ear, punctuating his words with slow, deep rolls of his hips. “Or I could take you hard and fast, whenever I feel like it, mine and mine alone.”

“Arthur!” Merlin sighs, gripping at his skin and rising onto her knees slightly as she comes, her orgasm humming through her body to the tips of her fingers and down to her toes. She leans her forehead on his shoulder as he pants in her ear, fucking her deeply.

“Gods, what I’d give to come inside you, Merlin,” Arthur says, voice little more than a growl.

“Go on, then,” she whispers in his ear, licking the shell of it. Arthur shudders and comes, slightly earlier than anticipated if his accompanying strangled gasp is anything to go by.

Merlin gives Arthur a few moments before she lifts her leg and swings off him, to collapse onto the bed at his side in a heap of sore limbs. “Oh, wow,” she says quietly to herself. “That’s quite a peculiar feeling.”

Arthur’s chest rises and falls steadily, and he turns his head towards her, now lying down on the bed once more. She turns her head towards him, the two of them exchanging nothing but gazes and breaths for a few moments. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” Merlin says quietly, the silence around them suddenly roaring. “About the being a man thing.”

“Some things should not be discussed,” Arthur says, looking up at the canopy, Adam’s apple bobbing. Merlin purses her lips, and he turns back towards her. “I should’ve reacted in a more chivalrous way, though.”

“I didn’t mean to use the magic. It just... happens when I’m scared, or angry. I try my best to control it, but sometimes...”

Arthur nods, before the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile. “Shame your magic can’t save you from your inherent clumsiness, though.”

Merlin laughs quietly at that, rolling her eyes up towards the headboard. “No, _sire_ ,” she sighs, before an idea comes to mind. “Would you like a bath?”

Arthur props himself up on one elbow, reaching out to trace a finger across Merlin’s ribs. “Is that you doing something for me without being told to, Merlin?”

She grins. “Of course not. I want a bath too, come on.”

Rolling off the bed awkwardly, she reaches her hand towards a smirking Arthur, worrying for a brief moment that he won’t take it. He does, though, allowing himself to be pulled off the bed and over to the bathtub, still full of steaming water. “I don’t understand...” Arthur begins, and Merlin fixes him with a pointed stare. “Oh, right, yes. Magic. Have you ever actually done a chore for yourself?” he asks Merlin as she helps him into the tub, before getting in herself and leaning back against Arthur’s chest as if she belongs there.

She smiles, unseen, before turning her head towards Arthur. “I do your bed by myself, because you’re such an arse about it. And sometimes my magic doesn’t understand things, so I have to help it along there, as well.”

Arthur nods his head pointedly. “You mean, like my finest tunics slumped on the floor over there?”

Merlin looks over to where, yes, the laundry from earlier just fell to the floor when she had been startled, over an hour ago now. She jerks her head and it begins folding itself again, making sure every last item goes into Arthur’s wardrobe before she turns back to her King.

“Your eyes...” he says, and Merlin wishes he’d kiss her again. He doesn’t, though, and Merlin wonders if he ever will, after everything.

Arthur sits up in the tub suddenly, water sloshing over the side. “Merlin. This isn’t going to end with any bastard witches or warlocks running around, is it?”

Merlin laughs, something that starts as a giggle but ends up as a very unladylike belly laugh. Arthur, however, stares at her with a distinct lack of amusement. “You have your way with words, sire,” Merlin says, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “Would you like the long story?”

“Very much so.”

“The Great Dragon, which you keep under Camelot...” Arthur gasps at this, but Merlin turns to him to watch his face change. “Yes, I know about Kilgharrah. You should probably release him, by the way. Dragons belong in the wild.”

“But... dragons only speak to dragonlords?” Arthur asks, curiosity colouring his tone, and it makes Merlin smile, fondness curling in her chest.

“Kilgharrah speaks our language too. And I know I’m not a dragonlord, but my father was one, apparently, and I seem to have inherited some of the traits, but I’ll never truly be a dragonlord, well, dragonlady. Nor will my children be.”

“But your children will be magic?” Arthur asks, although it isn’t really a question.

Merlin blushes, lowering her head slightly to hide it from Arthur. He tucks her hair behind her ear, dampening it in the process, so she cannot hide the red staining her cheeks. “Yes. They will be,” she says, and when she senses that it isn’t enough of an answer, she sighs. “Kilgharrah told me of my destiny. Well. Our destiny.”

When Arthur remains silent, Merlin takes a deep breath and carries on.

“We’re two sides of the same coin, you and me, or so Kilgharrah says. We’re meant to bring magic back to Camelot. You’re the once and future King, you’ll unite all of Albion,” she says, and when she hears the admiration in her own voice, she promptly shuts her mouth. “Or so he says.”

“And does all that involve making you my queen, and you giving birth to lots of babies with ridiculous ears?” Arthur asks, a smile on his face. He pulls Merlin back to him, settling her against his chest once more, and she allows her eyes to close.

“My ears aren’t ridiculous,” she protests weakly.

“That wasn’t the question.”

Merlin sighs, enjoying the warmth of the water around them, and the solid form pressed against her back. “The legend doesn’t expressly say. I mean, if you want to marry Mithian or whoever, you could. All Kilgharrah said was that I wouldn’t quicken until the time was right, and I don’t think that would be quite yet.”

Arthur is quiet for a few moments, and Merlin heats the water again, her fingertips beginning to prune. “Mithian will be devastated,” he says eventually.

“I know,” Merlin replies. “Who in their right mind would want to marry you? I mean, you snore, and you make the most hideous noises when you eat--” Arthur pinches Merlin’s nipple. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Because, firstly, I do _not_ snore, although I’ll admit to the eating thing--”

“Ha!”

“--but _secondly_ , Mithian will be devastated because I’ll have to turn down her father’s proposal for her hand in marriage.”

Merlin sobers quickly, the water sloshing in the tub as she turns around. “I don’t understand.”

“Really, Merlin, I thought you were brighter than this,” Arthur says, and Merlin hates how easy he is with all of this.

“You mean... you... why _me_?!” she squeaks.

“Oh, you silly girl,” Arthur says, cupping Merlin’s face with his hand, water dripping from her chin. “Because I’m a little bit in love with you, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, before she smiles widely, teeth and all. “That’s nice to know.”

Arthur rolls his eyes before he presses their lips together once more.


End file.
